I Spy
by Phantomhobbitses
Summary: After teaching his brother a game of observation Mycroft realizes that there may be some serious repercussions.


Mycroft pushed off the wall and turned to look at his brother. Their parent's had been inside the office for only a short while but already Sherlock seemed to be getting restless. He was capable of sitting still for hours on end if something was entertaining but he absolutely hated to be bored. Mycroft knew it worried their parents sometimes, Sherlock's complete lack of interest in people, but Mycroft was ready to foster his high intelligence and keen awareness of the world around him.

"Let's play a game," he said facing his younger brother with an eagerness he didn't typically show. The crowded courthouse was the perfect place to begin Sherlock's training. Sherlock looked up at him doubtfully.

"What type of game?" He asked looking suspicious for a reason Mycroft couldn't understand.

"It's called I Spy. Basically I look around and choose something and I give you a single clue to guess what it is."

Sherlock shrugged but faced his brother properly. "Alright, but if it gets boring I'm going to quit."

"Fair enough," Mycroft scanned the room even though he didn't really need to, he already knew everyone in attendance. "I spy with my little eye a person who I studying to be a doctor."

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft for a long while before turning to the courtroom. If he found Mycroft's observation strange he said nothing. He looked at each person carefully in turn, starting at one end of the hallway and moving to the other. When he got to the other end he started over and began looking at everyone making his way slowly back to the other end of the hallway.

"Please Sherlock, I picked an easy one. Surely you aren't having this much trouble."

Sherlock stared at his brother for a moment before pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, "The woman with the dark hair and red purse." Then, without missing a beat he said, "I spy with my little eye a person who was recently kicked out of his home."

"The man with the blue backpack and black jacket. He's hardly worth mentioning," but inside Mycroft was secretly pleased. His brother picked up on the game fast and what Mycroft had assumed was his brother taking a long time to answer the question that was asked was actually his brother gathering as much information as possible. He briefly toyed with the idea of adding new criteria the next time they played this game. They would each have one minute to memorize as much as they could before they needed to close their eyes and play the game. Out loud he said, "I spy with my little eye the owner of three dogs."

They went back and forth for twenty minutes barely glancing around except to take in new people who entered the building. Mycroft noted when his brother straightened towards the door that their parents were behind. Sherlock's hearing was sharp and Mycroft took it as a sign that their parents would be out soon. He decided to finish the game.

"I spy with my little eye a woman whose daughter was recently murdered."

The door opened behind him and he looked to his parents exiting the office. He looked back at his brother whose eyes had widened and were now desperately searching the building for an indication that someone was missing a family member. He wouldn't find her for two reasons, one there was no outward sign and Mycroft suspected that meant she was the killer, two Sherlock hardly recognized or cared about the emotions of others. This would teach him. Even if he wasn't going to care about the emotions of others at least he would take the time to identify them.

"Any guesses Sherlock?" His mother reached down and took Sherlock's hand as their father led them out of the courthouse.

"Just give me a moment, Mycroft," Sherlock said testily, annoyed that he was struggling.

"You boys weren't fighting were you?" Their mother asked reproachfully.

"No, we were just playing a little game," Mycroft said innocently his eyes never leaving his brother. He wondered if Sherlock would even admit that he didn't know. When they reached their house and were getting out of the car Mycroft walked up next to his brother. "Why don't you just admit that you don't know," he said smugly.

"Who said I don't know?" Sherlock bit back.

"It was the woman with the red hair and plaid skirt sitting on the bench next to the courtroom doors."

"There was no indication," Sherlock started to say, but Mycroft cut him off.

"Of course there was. When Father was watching the news last night her picture was shown on the telly and the news anchor mentioned that there still wasn't word about the missing girl but that she was assumed dead."

"That's cheating."

"It's observing. Maybe you should use your eyes next time, hmm." Mycroft smiled at his brother and ruffled his hair in a way he knew the boy hated. Sherlock brushed his arm aside and ran up to their parents tears in his eyes. He looked scared and like he was going to burst into tears at any moment.

"Mummy, Mummy," he said pulling at the hem of her dress. Mycroft walked around the car to watch his brother. Surely he wasn't that upset about losing a silly game. It would just teach him to observe things better in the future. "Mycroft is scaring me on purpose." Mycroft's froze still smirking as their mother and father turned to look at him. "He was saying that there was a killer at the courthouse, that this lady killed her daughter," his voice trembled as he said it and his breath caught in his throat making it sound like he was holding back a sob.

"Mycroft Holmes!" His mother said sternly looking at him in horrified shock. And Mycroft realized that his mother had taken his smirk to mean that he was guilty. "Of all the things to say that is just horrible. No dessert. For a month. I can't believe you, scaring your brother like that. Your father is going to give a stern telling off, aren't you dear?" She said looking at her husband who was also staring at his son in anger.

"This is your brother you should be nothing but kind to him," his mother continued. "As the older brother you should take care of him and watch over him." His mother went on as she often did when the two of them weren't acting brotherly. But Mycroft shifted his gaze to look at Sherlock still clutching their mother's skirt and trembling. But his eyes were clear and he was grinning smugly in Mycroft's direction.

Mycroft realized he had been wrong about his brother. It wasn't that his brother couldn't see emotions. He clearly could, otherwise he wouldn't have been so good at playing the part of the scared little boy. He just didn't care, except to use them to manipulate people.

His brother had always been observant, always a talented actor, and he had no trouble lying. In fact Mycroft strongly suspected there might be something wrong with his brother, something abnormal. No one should be that good at lying without showing some telltale signs. No one should care so little about humans' emotions and be so good at manipulating people without feeling any guilt.

He would need to keep an eye on him. As his mother said he was the older brother. It was his job to take care of Sherlock.


End file.
